Part 2 (1/2)

TO A WELL-KNOWN GLOBE.

I would not seem to slam our valued planet,-- s.p.a.ce, being infinite, may hold a worse; Nor would I intimate that if I ran it Its vapors might disperse.

Within our solar system, or without it, May be a world less rationally run; There may be such a geoid, but I doubt it-- I can't conceive of one.

If from the time our sphere began revolving Until the present writing there had been A glimmer of a promise of resolving The muddle we are in:

If we could answer ”Whither are we drifting?”

Or hope to wallow out of the mora.s.s-- I might continue boosting and uplifting; But as it is, I pa.s.s.

So on your way, old globe, wherever aiming, Go blundering down the endless slopes of s.p.a.ce: As far away the prospect of reclaiming The so-called human race.

Gyrate, old Top, and let who will be clever; The mess we're in is much too deep to solve.

Me for a quiet life while you, as ever, Continue to revolve.

”Our editorials,” announces the Tampa Tribune, ”are written by members of the staff, and do not necessarily reflect the policy of the paper.”

Similarly, the contents of this column are written by its conductor and the straphangers, and have nothing whatever to do with its policy.

”What, indeed?” as Romeo replied to Juliet's query. And yet Ralph Dilley and Irene Pickle were married in Decatur last week.

He was heard to observe, coming from the theater into the thick of the wind and snow: ”G.o.d help the rich; the poor can sleep with their windows shut.”

We have received a copy of the first issue of The Fabulist, printed in Hingham Centre, Ma.s.s., and although we haven't had time to read it, we like one of its ideas. ”Contributions,” it announces, ”must be paid for in advance at s.p.a.ce rates.”

The viewpoint of Dr. Jacques Duval (interestingly set forth by Mr.

Arliss) is that knowledge is more important than the life of individual members of the so-called human race. But even Duval is a sentimentalist.

He believes that knowledge is important.

Among reasonable requests must be included that of the Hotel Fleming in Petersburg, Ind.: ”Gentlemen, please walk light at night. The guests are paying 75 cents to sleep and do not want to be disturbed.”